


DIPLOMATIC TIES 2016 ♥

by felandaris



Series: Ever After [23]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Chair Sex, Consensual Sex, Cullenlingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Foot Massage, Humor, Innuendo, Light Bondage, Love, M/M, Multi, OT3, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Pre-Trespasser, Rewrite, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Sparring, Swordplay, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Ultimate Sacrifice, cause i like to think ive improved a little, chantry boys kiss, topless sparring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felandaris/pseuds/felandaris
Summary: After all she's done for him and Thedas, Cullen wants to give the Inquisitor a most special present...





	

**Author's Note:**

> The original Cullen - Quizzie - Alistair sandwich, all new and improved!
> 
> This was my first DA fic that I'm quite fond of so I thought it deserved better writing. The changes are so drastic I decided to give the re-write its own post.
> 
> Find a more detailed foreword [here](http://cullenstairshenanigans.tumblr.com/post/152215249508/on-diplomatic-ties-2016)and the original [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3225017) if you like.
> 
> Read on Tumblr with art! (coming soon)
> 
> ... and most importantly, **enjoy!**

“Inquisitor, the banquet starts in ten minutes!”

“I know,” Evelyn Trevelyan chirped back, twirling around to grab a hair tie, “I’ll be there!”

Her quarter’s doors muffled the servant’s voice. “And the Lady Ambassador asked me to remind you that-“

“…the semi-formal attire will be sufficient because our guest requested a more relaxed event. Thank you!” She grinned into the gold-framed mirror, pulling the final auburn strands into a neat bun. The armchair’s tired frame creaked as she plunged into its plush seat to tie her shoes, chuckling when a stammered apology was followed by hasty footfalls.

One last look at herself confirmed she was ready for the evening proceedings. And for once those promised to be a fun affair rather than the countless dry, pompous gatherings Skyhold had been hosting packed with dry, pompous guests. Had defeating Corypheus demanded all her strength and courage, the momentous victory seemed child’s play compared to the four months since. No week had passed without nobles, merchants and various important folk flocking her way. Trade negotiations, political sycophancy, marriage proposals- she could hardly keep up at times.

Evelyn’s grin shrunk into a small smile, her cheeks flushing as her fingers touched upon a hard outline underneath her dress. As always, the silver coin sat cool and reassuring right atop her heart. She could always count on her Spymaster and Ambassador for enthusiastic support of the Inquisition’s diplomatic endeavours. Her Commander, however, usually required gentle coercing to attend soirees and celebrations; be it in the form of stolen smooches, a cup of hot cocoa or the promise of a free kitchen for some relaxing baking.

_Not tonight, though._

Crossing through the Great Hall’s dying bustle, Evelyn marvelled at how their guest had won over Skyhold within a day, leaving even her Commander eager for the banquet. Weeks of feverish preparation and etiquette drills had foreshadowed another self-important snob whose attitude rivalled his magnitude. But this foreign leader had charmed everyone with quips rather than commands and the smiles he’d grant everyone including the lowliest servant. _And his looks certainly helped, too._ She supressed a giggle.

Nodding a friendly greeting here and there, she bounced down the courtyard stairs, her steps lighter than she’d remembered in months. Timid streaks of pink were weaving themselves into the Cloudreach sky’s fading blue as the sun began its descent. Passing closing stalls and tired merchants, Evelyn whistled to herself, though not loud enough to cover her stomach’s growl, coaxed out by meaty aromas wafting her way.

Soil and pebble crunched under quick feet as she neared the tavern. A push, and the door heaved open. Growing dusk and quiet transitioned into dim light, chatter and that unique _inn_ smell of ale, gravy and bodies. As she’d suspected the entire Inner Circle was out- advisors, companions, Chargers, the lot; all gathered around a massive table to honour Skyhold’s influential guest.

And indeed King Alistair of Ferelden had just arrived, shaking hands and smiling greetings, accompanied by his two-man entourage of elderly advisor and suavely surly Arl.

At the long table’s corner she spotted Cullen, a tankard before him.  Evelyn scooted beside him, her hand immediately finding a muscular thigh for a squeeze as he breathed a peck upon her cheek. Though they’d been more open about their relationship since the war’s end, Evelyn caught Josie’s concerned look along with a gesture towards the king. Their guest, however, took the cue to address them. “Commander Rutherford. Lady Inquisitor,” his smooth baritone rang pleasant as he raised the drink he’d just received.

Evelyn stood, her voice rising above the chatter hovering over the table. “Inquisition, please join me in welcoming King Alistair to Skyhold. We’re honoured to be hosting His Majesty and shall work our hardest to forge alliances to help shape the future of Thedas. But for now,” she lifted her mug, “please make sure the King enjoys himself!”

As the round broke out in cheers she caught the king winking her way, mouthing what may have been _Worry not_.

The meal commenced, as did conversation and jests. To the cheerful backdrop of the bard’s tunes the party exchanged tales of past exploits and common acquaintances. The king’s story of the dwarf Oghren’s brewery breath sending an unfortunate thief running; Varric’s account of His Majesty shrinking half a foot under Knight-Commander Meredith’s icy stare; a merry-go-round of Morrigan impressions all had Evelyn and her companions laughing harder by the minute, giddy bellows rising towards the rooftop.

Round after round was ordered, platters of meat emptied, even a few songs intonated. A hefty number of tankards later the group had shrunk and Trevelyan found herself opposite King Alistair, giggling at tales of Templar training he was exchanging with Cullen. The clanking of dishes now accompanied their chatter as Cabot was tidying his bar while Maryden was packing up.

“The legendary pant-less recruit- I’ve heard the stories,” the king said, grinning while the remainder of Cullen’s story drowned in his cackles. “I can’t believe our Kinloch Hold tenures didn’t overlap.”

“Well, we did meet once,” Cullen’s voice dropped as he mumbled into his drink. Evelyn’s fingertips settled on the small of his back, rubbing circles while both men fell silent at the memory of their ill-fated encounter amid peril and destruction.

“Right,” the king spoke just before the quiet became uncomfortable, “shall we call it a night, Eamon?” He nudged his half-conscious advisor who’d braved out the evening while Arl Taegan had retired long ago.

Only when she rose did Evelyn realise they were the tavern’s final patrons. As she turned to round the table the ale caught up with her and she swooned, swaying on one foot. But Cullen had her.  Pulling her against him, he pressed a whisper of a kiss atop her hair. She chuckled, slapping Cullen’s chest and mumbling something about decency in front of His Majesty.

“Please,” the melodic voice cut through the ale’s haze, as did the smile, _almost affectionate_ \- “Call me Alistair.”

She stood dumbfounded, a response evading her before Cullen pulled her along. The night’s sharp cold stung in her lungs, rousing her senses enough to appreciate Alistair’s final _Indeed, ‘tis so_ iterations. Once inside the deserted hall’s echoing dark, jokes and laughs lowered into shushes and whispers as king and advisor headed for the guest wing.

Twenty minutes later musk hung thick in the Inquisitor’s quarters and the late night’s silence was broken up by croaked moans, heavy breaths and creaking wood. The full moon bathed Cullen in argent shimmer, caressing his spread-out form as Evelyn rode him.

Creamy thighs trembled with her body’s rhythmic rise and fall, restless fingers worried fluffy tufts of chest hair with each upwards jab of his hips.

Whether despite or because of the evening’s alcoholic gaiety Evelyn was _buzzing_ , her skin prickling. She rose, eagerly, into every touch, each motion resonating deep inside her.

And Cullen was studying her, taking in the teeth worrying her bottom lip, her bosom’s gentle bounce; keen thumb rubbing and pressing without hurry where they were joined, where he’d made her slick and greedy.

Evelyn knew Cullen always had her back, would catch her any time. When pleasure’s tingle crested she never hesitated to sink into her man’s chest, whimpering when his head shot up and eager lips found a perky nipple. Clutching at his forearms, she rocked, rubbed against him once, twice more, sighing _Cullencullencullen_ as she soaked them both.

She purred her sluggish delight when Cullen flipped them over in a fluid motion, running a tender palm along her jaw before lifting her thigh over his shoulder.

And she moaned, writhed as he plunged inside, teasing out her aftershocks. Skin slapped, sweetly obscene, and she watched in awe when Cullen’s breaths quickened, his brow creased and his eyes squeezed shut. Warmth pulsed at her apex and in her chest as she caressed a damp lock from his forehead. 

Afterwards they lay entangled in a sloppy heap, content smiles forming occasional pecks on cooling skin, fingers tracing tickly shapes.

She would have nodded off, safely nestled into the crook of Cullen’s arm, had he not disrupted the comfortably sleep-inducing silence.

“You know,” a slurred whisper, dreamy yet alert, “I noticed the looks you gave him.”

It took a second for Evelyn’s head to rise, her eyes to blink and for panic to shoot into her cheeks. “ _What?_ ”

“King Alistair,” Cullen clarified, still sounding rather unfazed.

“What do you mean?” Her gaze darted in the dark, searching for his, for affirmation, an explanation-anything.

“You do like him, don’t you?” _Was that a smile lingering at the edge of his croak?_

“Excuse me?” Evelyn’s voice rose along with her as she propped herself up on a reluctant elbow, tired muscles aching to slip back into cosy near-sleep.

Cullen sighed. “No, not like that-,” a huff, “I didn’t mean to imply-“

“Then what _were_ you meaning to say?” Curiosity wiped confusion from her body.

Cullen gave a weak curse, frustrated at himself. Evelyn trailed a reassuring fingertip down his bicep, waiting with affectionate patience.

A sigh, long and shaky, preceded his words. “King Alistair is a remarkable man. I have nothing but respect for what he’s done for my country.” A pause. “If it weren’t for him and the Hero of Ferelden, Maker bless her soul, you and I might never have-“ The pillow rustled as his head turned towards her then dropped. Scooting closer, Evelyn nestled her face into his chest breathing understanding and love unto his skin. A moment passed before confusion nagged once more at the fringe of her conscious.

“Why did you ask if _I_ liked him, then?”

Groaning as if in pain, Cullen sat up against the headboard. The evening’s chill prickled along her shoulders as Evelyn, too, rose, the blanket sinking off her.

“How do I say this?” The hand rubbing the back of Cullen’s neck only piqued her curiosity further. “The three of us- could you- would you…”

Evelyn blinked, forgetting to breathe as her heart, and the echo of his words, pounded up to her ears. “Cullen,” she spluttered, “what in the Maker’s name are you suggesting?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, draping the sheet around her. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold because of my ramblings.” A chuckle. “This might be the ale talking, of course.” _Or not talking_ , for he struggled for words, seemed to find them eventually in her hair gliding through his outstretched fingertips.

“I love you, Lyn. You know that. Being with you helped me summon the strength to overcome this addiction. I owe my sanity, my _life_ , to that love,” she saw his eyes now, bright with sincerity, “… to _you_ ”. Evelyn’s fingers were trembling, digging at his shoulder, eyes stinging as she listened. “When this is all over, you do know I’d like for us to-“ a shy glance, “… _settle down_ , right?” She was smiling now, nodding while a single tear escaped down her face.

“Until then, I want us to live a little. To make you happy.” Cullen’s voice shrank to a whisper, and faint notes of elderflower caressed her senses as she leaned in. “Maker knows seeing you happy is the one wish I have in this life.“ He cleared his throat. “… and I thought this could  be an opportunity. If I’m wrong, however, if the notion of another man isn’t-,” a swallow, “…enticing, just forget about what I said.” Evelyn opened her mouth, raising a brow. “…but if this is something you might be interested in, I’d be very ha-”

She interrupted him with a kiss, light and soft and far more innocent than what he was proposing. Brushing her knuckles over prickly scruff, she watched him, sitting there in all his awkward debauchedness. “I wouldn’t say it’s not _enticing_ , exactly. But why propose this now, and why him?”

Cullen _grinned_ back, eyes and lips and jaw, sheepish with a hint of mischief. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to be a bit daring, with Corypheus defeated. As for King Alistair…”

Again her eyebrow rose. “As for King Alistair…?”

He shrugged. “As I said, he’s a good man. I’d rather-“ a split-second’s pause, “…watch him with you than some mask-doting Orlesian.”

Evelyn giggled, a melody of incredulous delight. “You want to _watch_ , too?”

Cullen’s hand was back at his neck, rubbing fiercely as he scrambled for words. “I- that’s not why I was suggesting…”

Her lips cut him off once more, muffling her cackles and his stammer.

They made love again then slipped into the Fade, warm and safe in each other- not, however, without Cullen promising to approach the king in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> [Find me (and the boys) on Tumblr!](https://http://cullenstairshenanigans.t%20Tumblr.com) ʘ‿ʘ


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